


My Sad Soul Smiling

by theroadgoeson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, always need angst, mormor, my murder babies, theres still angst though., this is about as fluffy as mormor can be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:38:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theroadgoeson/pseuds/theroadgoeson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Moriarty meets Sebastian Moran on the run from a job gone wrong. He hires him and his life changes forever. (Warning for shameless use of Titanic and ABBA for metaphorical resonance and irony.) (Also, I'd like to thank my friend Chris (even though he will never read this story) for helping me set up one of Seb's hits.) (All credit to Mofftiss and Doyle.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Sad Soul Smiling

Sebastian was running. The job had gone horribly wrong. It wasn't his fault, no, his shooting was perfect as usual. One shot, the target was dead. To be honest, the shot was one of the best Sebastian had ever done. No, it wasn't his fault. It was the goddamn target's fault. The target had known he was being targeted and therefore set up a decoy. A pretty fucking brilliant decoy, as a matter of fact. Sebastian couldn't tell the difference, he just shot, then he turned around and there was his real target. He ran then. He jumped and was off. He knew there was probably no way he could escape them for long, even if he outran them for now and managed to get away for a moment, they would find them and then he would die. A simple execution, he would be shot, then he would be dead.

Sebastian did manage to outrun them. He used his knowledge of some of London's dodgier areas to escape. He went to a criminal bar, run by an affiliate of an international drug gang. The bar catered to every criminal who didn't directly conflict with the gang, and so Sebastian was welcome.

After he had been dishonorably discharged from Her Majesty's Army, he had become fairly famous in the criminal ring. As one of the best snipers in the army- possibly the world- many famous and rich crime lords had wanted him as part of their empire, but while he was still in the army, still one of the angels, they had laid off, dreaming that maybe they could turn him. When he was discharged, however, Sebastian Moran, sniper extroidinaire, had suddenly become fair game. He had been sent various letters without return addresses asking him to do various jobs, become a henchman, a professional criminal sniper. They offered to break him out of jail and to make him rich. He didn't accept any one of those offers. He spent his time in jail and was even released early on good behavior. It was then he began accepting offers. He didn't officially affiliate himself with any particular organization, but he took the occasional job for companies and crime lords, taking out various politicians, business men and unfortunate, idiotic people who crossed Sebastian's clients.

The bar was hot and filled with the cigarette smoke of decades of criminals, some of them dead long ago, some still kicking. Slow jazz music played from a small radio behind the bar while the barkeep dried glasses. Sebastian entered through the back entrance and took a seat at the bar.

"One whiskey, and give me the best you have," Sebastian demanded as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

The barkeep placed the glass on the counter along with an ash tray. Sebastian swallowed down the whiskey, completely unappreciative the high quality. He set it back down and it was refilled.

Sebastian was aware that this was quite possibly the last night of drinking he would ever have so he didn't care about the tab he was quickly building up with every drink. He didn't notice nor care about any of the other people in the bar. He didn't notice the Afghani war lord dressed in a suit and speaking with a chemical weapons distributer. He didn't notice the drug lord negotiating prices with a supplier. He didn't notice the terrorist ring leader planning his next bombing. And Sebastian especially didn't notice the most remarkable man in the room. The man was sitting alone on the other side of the bar, casually sipping a gin and tonic with an immensely bored expression on his face. He was dressed in an impeccable Westwood suit and wore a black tie with little skulls printed on it. His entire posture and look screamed intimidation, even if his face didn't, but Sebastian caring only about drinking away his problems, didn't notice him.

Sebastian was trying to figure out his problem. He knew he couldn't run forever, and even if he tried, he would fail. The only way he could solve this was to take out his enemy, but he knew that they would be on high alert. They already were when he took out the fake target, but now the security around the proper target would be doubled, possibly tripled. Sebastian was smart enough to know that it would be nothing but stupid to try to kill the target, but he knew no other way. He knew he couldn't do it alone. The shot he could take, but the security would be too strong for an ex-army colonel to penetrate. He would have to work with someone, but none of his previous clients had enough resources or enough intelligence to pass the security. Sebastian would have been able to see the man who could do it though if he had bothered to pay any attention to his surroundings. The man who could solve all of Sebastian's problems was also the only other lonely man in the room. The only man who was staring directly at Sebastian.

James Moriarty knew exactly what Sebastian's problem was, of course he did, hardly a difficult deduction. James Moriarty also knew that Sebastian was too caught up in trying to solve his problem to look around for help. Therefore, James Moriarty would have to take matters into his own hands.

Jim walked up to Sebastian and said in the most nonchalant voice with a soft Irish lilt, "I see you have a problem."

"Yes, and one I doubt anyone could solve."

"Well, I'm not just anyone."

That caught Sebastian's attention and he looked up at the man in the Vivianne Westwood suit with the skull tie. He couldn't deny he was attractive, and more than a bit creepy.

"How do you even know you could solve my problem, not-just-anyone?"

"Because, Colonel Sebastian Moran, previously of Her Majesty's Army and sniper wonder, I'm more than a man. You may have heard of me. I'm a whisper, a name no one ever speaks, that is, unless it's the last thing they speak. I'm James Moriarty, and you could say I practically run European crime."

"The elusive Mr. Moriarty. What a pleasure," Sebastian replied sarcastically. Why would the Napoleon of Crime decide to talk to him. He didn't care if he sassed him, he was going to die anyway.

Jim ignored the sarcasm and instead replied, "You need me or your dead. I'll help you stay alive under one condition. You become my head sniper and personal bodyguard."

Sebastian thought the offer over, die almost surely, or finally affiliate himself with an organization and essentially become the lapdog of the most dangerous man in London.

"And what exactly would this job entail"

"You'd go wherever I tell you and kill whoever I tell you. When you are not on a hit, you will be my body guard. You will protect me and in turn I will keep you alive. You will move into my flat to further protect me. You will be paid very well, and I can assure you one thing, you will never be bored."

Sebastian had been doubtful before then, but if there was anything Jim Moriarty knew how to do it was to exploit weaknesses, and adrenaline was Sebastian Moran's biggest weakness.

"You know who's trying to kill me then"

"I already have men on the way to execute him."  
\-------------------------------------------------------

 

Sebastian's life had been different since he accepted Jim's job offer. For one, he had at least one hit every week and in the time between hits he went to high-security meetings with Jim as a body guard. He could barely imagine life back at his old, run down apartment where prostitutes and drug dealers had lived before and would continue to live long after he was dead and gone.

Sebastian had taken to visiting Jim's office when he wasn't on a hit and Jim wasn't busy. Today he had walked to the door and turned the door knob, expecting Jim at his laptop or on his phone planning just exactly how he was going to destroy the world, like always, but what Sebastian found was entirely different.

Jim was lying on top of his desk, without his normal Westwood suit on and instead dressed in just his undershirt and bright green pants, holding a small knife in his hand with cuts and gashes up and down his arm.

"Oh my God, Jim!" Sebastian shouted, rushing towards the smaller man.

"Shut up, Seb, I'm fine," Jim muttered with his eyes closed.

"Fine?! Your entire arm is slit open like a fucking autopsy!"

"Just some cuts."

"Why would you even do something that stupid. For a genius, you really can be a dumbass sometimes," Sebastian said as he cleaned the wounds with a wet cloth he found on the desk.

"It stopped the gears from turning for a bit."

"The gears?"

"The gears, Seb. The turning in my brain. Sometimes I just want it to stop. Just... have a moment of peace for once. Sometimes I just want them to stop forever. Eternal peace."

"And cutting up your arm will make it better?" Sebastian asked, only half jokingly.

"For a bit."

Jim winced as Sebastian began to apply disinfectant to the cuts, cringing himself at the deepness of some of them. Sebastian finished disinfecting and applied bandages over Jim's entire arm. He grabbed the knife out of Jim's hand and put it away. Jim sat up slowly, clutching his injured arm, and looked at Sebastian cleaning up with something akin to reverence.

Sebastian finished putting away the medical supplies and turned to face his boss. He picked up Jim's hands in his own and cradled them like a mother holding her child.

"Promise me you'll never do that again, Boss."

"I promise, Seb."

And for once, the consulting criminal would never break his word.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------

 

Sebastian loved his life with Jim, completely and totally. He loved coming home from a hit, still high from adrenaline, and seeing Jim lounging on the couch, dressed in his favourite Westwood suit and tapping on his phone. He loved walking into the kitchen and looking in the understocked cupboards to find something that could pass for sustenance then going to the couch and sitting next to his boss. He loved turning on the telly to some shit action movie and just watching it. He loved it when Jim would pretend to be on his phone when really, he was watching the horrible movie along with Sebastian. Sebastian loved it when, at the end of a long day, Jim would come home and collapse on top of him, and he would pet Jim's hair and listen to his muttering and cursing and when he had finally blown off all his steam, Sebastian would hug him, and he would go off to his room. Sebastian loved all these things, but most of all, he loved that when Sebastian did anything for Jim, whether it's making him eat or making him sleep or stopping him from doing something he'd regret, Jim didn't ever have to thank him, because it was understood that Jim appreciated Sebastian more than words could say.

A week after the arm incident Sebastian lied on the couch with a sleeping Jim, a rare sight, seeing as Jim almost never slept. They had just finished watching a shitty action film, just to pass the time, and as Jim didn't have anything going on was relaxed enough to pass out in the middle of it. Jim leaned against Sebastian's shoulder in a position that was clearly uncomfortable. Sebastian gently took Jim by the shoulders and laid him across his lap. Sebastian sat there, simply looking at his boss. Jim's face was relaxed and calm, and Sebastian, knowing Jim was never relaxed, did not take this moment for granted. Sebastian combed his fingers through his boss's hair, simply taking in the feeling of him; the strands of hair, the softness of his scalp, the downy feeling of the small, thin hairs at his hairline.

Sebastian revered Jim, loved him. Possibly not in a romantic way, he knew, but there was definitely something there- something more than simply boss and bodyguard, something even more than friends. Sebastian knew Jim didn't have friends, didn't have relationships. Jim was a psychopath, he couldn't form relationships. Sebastian knew he was only going to give himself trouble by caring for Jim, but despite this Sebastian cared. Caring was not an advantage, Sebastian knew this, it was one of the first lessons he learned in life. One day he would royally screw up, he would mess up a job, he would cross a line, he would piss Jim off, and then he'd be fired, more likely killed, but with Jim fired and killed were almost the same thing. Sebastian knew he was being an idiot, that if Jim knew his internal thoughts, he would be calling his sniper an idiot too.

God, Sebastian thought, I'm royally fucked.

Jim stirred in his sleep, his eyes twitching beneath the lids and he turned closer to Sebastian's chest. Sebastian placed a hand on top of his head and with his thumb he brushed his boss's cheek lightly.

"What the fuck are you doing to me?"  
\---------------------------------------------------------

 

About a year after Sebastian started working for Jim he came home from a hit. It was his birthday and Seb planned on spending it with a bottle of beer and a glass of whiskey. Maybe with some Chinese take out getting involved. He stepped into his flat, hung up his coat, and toed off his shoes. As he was pulling off his gloves he was overwhelmed by the smell of stir fry. His curiosity piqued, he walked towards the kitchen. As he approached, he heard the soft sound of the sauce simmering. He stepped into the kitchen and saw Jim stirring the food and softly humming a song.

"What are you singing?" Seb asked.

"Mama Mia."

"Since when do you listen to ABBA?" Sebastian questioned, walking to the fridge and opening a beer.

"Since when do I cook?" Jim replied as he turned to look at Seb.

"Speaking of which. Why? Might I ask?" Seb said, gesturing towards the simmering food with his bottle.

"Today's your birthday."

"I didn't know you celebrated birthdays."

"I didn't know either," Jim said, turning back to the food, "but it seemed pertinent."

"How so?"

"This Sunday is also the one year anniversary of your employment with me."

Jim turned off the stove and began spooning the stir fry onto plates. Seb watched and drank his beer, thinking over his boss's sudden kindness. Jim placed the pan in the sink and filled it with hot water as Sebastian finished his beer.

"Well, in honour of such an important date," Seb said, walking over to their wine cabinet, "let's say to hell with cheap beer and hello to a bottle of... Visne-Romanee Domain Meo-Camuzet." Seb paused, then added, "what the hell did I just say?"

"You just said the name of a 3,000 quid bottle of vintage wine," Jim said, grabbing the bottle, "And I'm saying you should probably get the wine opener because I've been wanting a good reason to drink this."

Seb and Jim sat next to each other on the couch, their cleaned plates and a half empty bottle of wine laying on the coffee table as Titanic played on the television. The two men were both slightly drunk and kept laughing at inappropriate times during the movie.

"I didn't even know we had this movie," Seb said as he finished his glass of wine "Since when do you like chick flicks."

"I guess tonight is just a night of surprises, Seb."

"I guess."

They had just reached the part of the film when Jack and Rose first declared their love for each other. Jim scoffed and said, "And they've known each other all of one week?"

"You can't put a clock on love, Jim."

"Ugh, love. Who needs it?"

"Don't tell me you've never loved something. I mean, I know you're a psychopath," Jim smiled at that, "but you must have loved something. Killing people, at least."

"I kill because it's fun and I have too, not because I love it."

"So you've never loved anything?" Sebastian asked, disbelieving of the idea that even his psychopath was incapable of loving anything.

"Tell me, Seb, what is love?" Jim said, sincerely wanting to know the answer.

Seb paused, having never really thought of the question before. On the telly, the ship was now sinking; mass panic had taken hold. People were running and screaming as the crew tried to calm the panic. Sebastian thought about the different forms love could take- motherly love, brotherly love, romantic love. He wondered how you could define such a changeable, multifoliate thing. After a long while he spoke.

"I would define love as that feeling you get when you're inexplicably happy with someone. When, although you may not know them very well, or conversely, you may know them better than yourself, they always make your day better. You can be having the most fucked up day of your life and suddenly you see them and you've regained the ability to smile. It's that feeling that makes you change from a hateful, spiteful person to someone who can care and trust. It's that sadness that covers you when you're away from that person and the resulting happiness when you see them again. You want them with you constantly. You can sit in comfortable silence with them because you both know each other so well you don't need words to convey your message," Seb paused. "Love changes you, I guess. And I know I'm being overly sentimental, but that's what I think and that's what you wanted to know."

"Hmm, love..." Jim murmured.

Most of the passengers had died now and the hull was almost vertical.

"Look at them. They're all so stupid. They value their lives so much," Jim said, his face strangely blank as he watched the movie.

"Sometimes people don't know what else to value, so they take what little they have."

"Hmm..." Jim paused then turned to Sebastian. "You are being very sentimental tonight. I'm not sure if I like it or not."

"I guess I am," Seb said as he poured themselves two more glasses of wine, "but I hope you decide you do like it, because otherwise I'd be killed."

"Yes, that wouldn't be good for anyone," Jim said as he drank his wine.

The pair finished watching the movie, neither of them speaking until it was finished.

"Goodnight, Seb," Jim said as he stood.

"Night, Boss."

Sebastian stood and gathered the plates and glasses. He brought them to the kitchen and began washing the dishes in the sink. He still wondered why Jim decided to be so nice tonight- so out of character. Admittedly, it was one of the better birthdays he'd had in a while, but it still bothered him. He eventually decided to just accept it.

He turned of the faucet and walked to his bedroom. He took off his shirt and trousers and stepped into bed in his pants. He stared at the ceiling and thought over his definition of love. He tried comparing it to people he thought he loved in the past. According to his definition, he didn't love his mother or father, his siblings, or any of his family. The closest thing he came to loving was his tiger hunting gig he had for a while.

As he was about to fall asleep he tried comparing his definition with his feelings for Jim. His sleep deprived brain allowed him to do this, against its better judgement. And although it would have shocked a more conscious Sebastian, a tired, slightly drunk Sebastian accepted the fact that Jim fit perfectly with his definition of love.

"I guess I love my boss," Sebastian whispered into the darkness. "That's cool, I guess." And he fell into a dreamless sleep, just barely smiling.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Jim walked towards his bedroom, mildly intoxicated and very tired. Normally he could go for days without sleep and be unaffected, but one night of dancing around emotions left him exhausted. He knew that it was probably a bad idea to celebrate this night with Sebastian, but he felt strangely obligated. In the past year, Seb had done more for Jim than anyone had in his entire life.

Sebastian had cared for him, made sure he didn't kill people he could use in the future, calmed him down when he was overreacting, staved off his boredom. He had made sure Jim ate, and drank, and slept. He ensured that Jim didn't collapse from exhaustion and that, conversely, he finished enough work that he wouldn't be bogged over. Jim never thanked Sebastian for any of this, knowing that the gratitude need not be spoken, but nonetheless, tonight, he felt obligated to do something.

Jim walked into his bedroom and, stumbling slightly, began to undress. He had spent the entire night still in his suit and therefore, not caring in the slightest, unceremoniously threw his clothes aside. He pulled on a white t-shirt and crawled into bed.

He stared at the ceiling, imagining the shapes of victims and destruction. The images morphed into that of the sinking Titanic.

Such beautiful destruction, Jim thought, but brought about by such stupidity.

Jim thought of Sebastian and his definition of love. He thought it was very sentimental and was still unsure if he liked it or not. Sentiment was most certainly not one of Jim's traits, but still he felt something for Sebastian. Jim didn't know what it was, and he knew that it was dangerous, but he thought he liked it.

He thought over the definition of love. Thinking it over and over, began to realize that Seb fit his definition. This scared him, even in his drunken state. He knew love was a dangerous thing, which is why he avoided it his entire life. He avoided it so much that he began to believe he couldn't feel it. He loved nothing and no one, and so the revelation that he loved his sniper came as a shock. Although he tried, he could not bring himself to be mad at Sebastian.

Slowly, he calmed down. He thought over this new information. How could he love Seb?

He cares for me, he makes sure I don't put myself in danger, he protects me, even when he isn't obligated to do so. He makes sure I'm safe. I'm happy around him. I actually want to be around him.

He couldn't help it, but he began to smile thinking about Sebastian. Jim rarely genuinely smiled, and he began to like the fact that only Seb could bring this on.

Jim rolled on his side and began to softly sing the song from earlier that evening. "Look at me now, will I ever learn? I don't know how, but I suddenly lose control. There's a fire within my soul..."  
\------------------------------------------------------

 

Sebastian woke in the morning slightly hungover. He stumbled out of bed and grabbed a pair of sweats on the floor. He pulled them on and walked towards the bathroom. As he brushed his teeth, he reviewed the events of last night. He came home, Jim had made him dinner, they watched Titanic (lame movie, really, he thought), Jim was acting very odd (probably the alcohol. I've never really seen him drunk). He bent over the sink to spit out his tooth paste and rinse his mouth. At that point, Seb remembered what Jim had asked him and his reply. As he straightened and looked at himself in the mirror, the slight stubble on his jaw and cheek, the creases from the sheets on his cheek bone, the dark bags underneath his eyes, he remembered what he came to realize the night before, drunk and slow minded.

"Fuck..." Sebastian whispered. He rubbed his hand over his eyes. It was one thing to know that you felt a very strong friendship with someone; it was another entirely to acknowledge the fact that you love them.

He grabbed the edge of the sink and looked himself in the mirror. "Okay, Moran, get a hold of yourself," he stared, wide-eyed, into his reflexion, "You love your boss. Okay. Just act normal now. Nothing's changed between you two. Everything is fine."

He still stared at himself. He could tell that the terror was obvious in his eyes- Jim would see through it in seconds.

"Pull yourself together."

He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. When he looked back in the mirror, he looked almost composed. He washed his face and looked again. This time he could pass for normal. There was still a hint of panic, but it would have to do.

He walked in the kitchen and turned on the stove. He pulled out a pan and set it on the burner. He then walked to the fridge and pulled out two eggs and a block of cheese.

Jim stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing his head.

"Morning," Seb said, avoiding eye contact as he cracked the eggs into the pan.

Jim moaned in reply. Sebastian looked up and saw the grogginess of a hangover written plainly on Jim's face. He walked to the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of aspirin. He filled a cup of water and set it on the table in front of Jim along with the aspirin.

"What do you want for breakfast?" Seb asked as he turned back towards his omelet.

"Nothing. Not hungry."

Seb thought the hangover must be bad if Jim wasn't even bothering with complete sentences.

"C'mon, it will help with the hangover." Jim said nothing in reply. "Okay, I'll just make you another omelet. And you will eat it."

"Why do you bother making me eat? Caring for me?" Jim asked, looking up. He couldn't comprehend how someone could care for him, demanding and demeaning as he was. He never really bothered with questioning it before, but the events of last night brought the question to the forefront of his mind.

"Because you're in pain and you're too much of an idiot to actually care for yourself."

"I'm not an idiot."

"Yes, you are," Seb replied while placing the finished omelet in front of Jim. "Now eat."

Jim began to eat, and after the first bite passed his lips, his hunger was brought to the forefront of his mind. He ate rapidly and greedily.

"Knew you were hungry," Sebastian said as he sat down across from Jim with his own breakfast.

"Shut up."

Seb simply smiled in reply as he began to eat his own breakfast. Jim finished eating and looked up. He blinked awkwardly and said simply, "You're not wearing a shirt."

"Brilliant observation," Seb replied sarcastically.

"Why not?" Jim asked, standing and taking his plate to the sink.

"I was too lazy. Problem?"

"None at all," Jim answered as he began washing his plate. Really, he was getting oddly turned on. It felt odd, but he couldn't deny the fact that he was very attracted to his flat mate and sniper, with his sweat pants slung loosely around his hips and the band of his underwear just slightly visible above the waistline. As he put away the dishes, he found himself glancing back at the curve of Sebastian's spine and the soft twitch of his arm muscles as he moved his fork from his plate to his lips. He felt a strong urge to run his fingers through Seb's blonde hair and trace the line of his jaw, feel the pulse just underneath. He snapped himself away from that urge.

You can't do this. First you think you love him and now this?

"I'll be in my office," Jim said curtly as he walked out of the kitchen.  
\---------------------------------------------------------

 

Sebastian smirked. Well, that was...interesting. He stood and placed his dish in the sink. He grabbed the pan off the stove and began washing the dishes. It was very clear to Seb that Jim felt awkward. At least he wasn't the only one.

How odd, he thought, that Jim didn't notice his blatant awkwardness and shirtlessness sooner. Seb blamed it on the hangover but still didn't think that was enough. He finished washing the dishes and began to dry them. As he put them in the cupboards, he thought on Jim's actions. It was strange the way Jim suddenly stiffened and avoided eye contact. How he worked slowly and deliberately while cleaning instead of the vacant, nonchalant manner customary to him.

What piqued Sebastian's curiosity the most however was how Jim did not notice Sebastian's blatant awkwardness. He knew that it was written plainly on his face, but Jim did not show the slightest inclination of comprehension. Seb decided that a simple hangover was not enough to explain away Jim being so out of character.

Seb sat down at the table and joined his hands under his chin. He sat there thinking and thinking, wondering why Jim had decided to change so suddenly. Sebastian knew that his feelings for his boss had changed- or at least he realized the change, which strangely caused more of a change- but he never believed that Jim could change in the same way. Jim was a psychopath. He couldn't love. Seb knew it was hopeless.

He had decided, inexplicably, slowly, then all at once, that the love he felt for Jim was romantic. He leaned his head down on his arms. He wondered what he ever did to deserve this. Unrequited love from a psychopath.

He sighed and stood up. He needed a hit. He needed to be so consumed in the adrenaline, the danger, the complexity of the execution that he forgot everything. He wanted to feel the wind's sting against his cheek as he looked through the view finder of his rifle. He needed to feel the cold metal underneath his hands, so familiar and so foreign at the same time. He needed to blend with the buildings and the rifle and the skyline and be so consumed by the city no one could find him. He needed that sense of release when he pulled the trigger. He needed that feeling of satisfaction and success when he saw the target drop, dead and lifeless and rapidly cooling. He needed that control- that complete, total, and utter control only achieved through holding someone's very life in your hands. He needed to feel like he could still do something when, in the past twenty-four hours, so much of his world had been pivoted and rotated the opposite way on its axis.

Seb walked toward's Jim's office.

Jim closed the door to his office and sat down at his desk. He looked at all of the folders on his desk and sighed. He slid off his chair and lieed down on the floor, spread eagle, staring at the ceiling. He sighed again.

What was he doing with himself? In the past day he cooked dinner for someone, watched an overly sentimental movie (and kind of enjoyed it), discovered his love for someone, and suddenly found himself attracted to the man.

That was a lie. From day one, Jim had always found himself a little attracted to Sebastian. He never considered it a big deal. His sniper was aesthetically pleasing, that's all. And Jim, being the human he is, was attracted to him. He never put much thought to it. But today, after realizing that yes, Jim loved him, he felt a sudden increase in his physical need for the man.

Jim sighed, exasperated, and rolled on his side. He curled into a fetal position and wrapped his arms around his knees. He didn't like this emotion thing. Since when did he love people?

He tried desperately to control himself. He tried hating Sebastian, he tried feeling indifferent. Nothing worked. He couldn't help it, but Jim definitely loved Seb. He both hated it and loved it. He hated that he couldn't control it, he hated that it was a weakness, something his enemies could exploit, he hated that by loving him, he put Seb in danger too. But he loved that it was Seb that he chose to love. Even if he didn't realize it, Jim had chosen to fall in love with Seb. From day one he treated Seb differently than everyone else. He gave the sniper a little more respect, a little more lenience. He gave him a bit more of his time, he let Seb care for him. He allowed himself to grow dependent on Seb.

He sighed yet again and turned on his back again, recognizing the hopelessness of his situation. If he couldn't stop loving Sebastian, he would at least learn how to control his emotions. He knew Sebastian didn't love him back, or at least in the same way. Seb only cared for Jim, no one could love him, not with his personality. He had always thought of himself as a loathsome creature- a smart, superior creature, but loathsome nonetheless. No one could love him, and he would not change that idea simply because he found someone he wished could love him.

He heard a knock at the door. He stood up and opened the door to find the still shirtless form of Sebastian leaning against the door frame.

"What do you want?"

"A job."

"Why?"

"I'm bored."

"Why?"

"You're asking a lot of questions"

"You're asking for a quite a big favour."

"I'm asking for a job."

"That I didn't assign. Hence, favour."

"I'm bored because I have nothing to do. Surely there's someone you want dead," Seb said, almost to the point of begging now.

"Just me," Jim muttered.

"What?"

"Uh, Charkovzsky."

"That Russian from the meeting last Tuesday?"

"Yes," Jim said turning and looking through files for the right one. "Here," he said handing the file to Seb, "He has some of the highest security the Russian underground can offer. You're bored, here's a challenge."

"Excellent," Seb smiled as he grabbed the file. He turned to leave the room and read up on the target.

Jim closed the doors and muttered as he hit the floor again, "I hate my life."  
\----------------------------------------------------------------

 

Seb was sitting at the table reading up on Charkovzsky's file. Whatever this man did to piss Jim off, Seb was glad for it. He loved the challenge this man was going to offer. The Russian had an arsenal of body guards, security cameras, and trained killers on his every beck and call. It would be difficult for Sebastian to find an opening.

He stood and walked to his bedroom, still reading the file. He lied down on his bed and continued to read. He decided that the forty story building about a mile away from where Charkovzsky's car passed every day would be best. If he could get past the building's security he could make it to the twentieth floor, he would have a good shot, if only in a split second window.

He went to his laptop and hacked into the building's security system. The guards switched every two hours with a three minute window for Sebastian to get past. The problem would be getting twenty stories up in that three minute window.

He walked into the kitchen pondering this. He grabbed a bag of crisps and returned to his room. He sat back down and grabbed his laptop. He noticed at that point that just at the end of that three minute window, the elevator on the twentieth floor was unguarded.

He looked at the stair well he was hoping to shoot from. It was unguarded if he could only get up it. Again he checked the timing for his window. In would have to get up the elevator and to the stairs in exactly two minutes forty-five seconds. It was doable.

Sebastian checked the time. Charkovzsky would be leaving work in five hours and the next guard change was in three. He stood, already preparing his bag. He packed his Barret model 82A1 semiautomatic .50 caliber rifle. He packed his stand and his gloves and zipped up the bag.

He went to the bathroom and ran the shower. He undressed and stepped in. When he was done washing himself, he stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist. He walked into the bedroom and looked in his closet. He pulled on his standard all black sniping outfit, black t-shirt, black jeans, black shoes. He would save the gloves for later. He would be in plain view of the cameras and he didn't want to look too suspicious. He pulled a leather jacket on over his shirt and fixed his hair. The building was an office building for various fashion designers, so he stylishly spiked up his hair. He checked his appearance in the mirror and decided he could pass for someone's assistant, even with the large duffel bag.

He grabbed his bag, walked out of his room, and shut his door. He walked down the hall to Jim's office. He knocked and Jim only grunted in reply. Sebastian took that as an invitation to open the door. When he looked inside the door he found Jim laying on the floor staring at the ceiling, his limbs stretched out from his body in a star shape.

"Ahem," Seb grunted.

Jim said nothing in reply.

"Well, I'm heading out. I should be back in about four hours."

Jim still said nothing and just turned his head away from Sebastian. Seb turned around and left the flat. When Jim heard the front door close, he grabbed his phone from his pocket. He dialed the head of his security.

"Keep track of Moran," Jim said into the phone, "Don't let anything happen to him or I will personally ensure that your death will be slow, painful, and agonizing. You will be begging for pain if you fail."

"Yes, sir," came the muffled answer.

"Good."

Jim hung up and threw the phone aside. He may not be able to show Seb that he cared, but he could ensure that nothing happened to him. He sighed and turned back to the ceiling, feeling a sense of hopelessness and loneliness very uncharacteristic of the consulting criminal.  
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Sebastian had got in a cab about a block away from his flat. He directed the cabbie to the office building and got there just in time to catch his window. He hit the up button on the elevator and climbed in. As he got out he casually checked the cameras. No one would ever notice him. He walked quickly to the stairs and climbed up them. He found the right window and sat down.

He looked out the window at the city passing by. He was just outside the center of London and he spent the better part of an hour just staring at the people passing by. Twenty stories up, they looked so small, so insignificant. So easy to take out.

Seb thought of how insignificant he was before his life with Jim. He was in the army, he even hunted tigers for a while, but he was still nothing. He still just went through the motions and meant nothing. Maybe that's why he killed that civilian in Afghanistan. He was tired of being nothing. Even if he killed to do it, he would make something of his life. Once he was picked up by Jim in that rutty bar, he felt like his life had changed. Suddenly it was unexpected. He was doing something, he held the lives of men in his hands, men who got in Jim's way. He held the power of Jim's criminal empire in his hands and in his bullets. He became the right hand man of the most powerful man in England.

Seb smiled fleetingly as he pulled out his rifle. He had been sitting on the stairs for almost two hours. He pulled out the stand and set up the rifle. He opened the window and took the necessary measurements. He calculated for wind speed, temperature, altitude and estimated speed of the car. He looked through the eyepiece on his rifle and aimed. He saw the car approach and at just the right time pulled the trigger, he watched as just a second later the car window exploded and he saw the blood splatter the sidewalk.

The car came to a screeching halt and, satisfied, picked up his rifle and started disassembling it. He placed it back in his bag and started walking down the stairs. As he opened the door, he heard the rush of footsteps and was suddenly bombarded by two men in black suits aiming guns at his head.

Jim hadn't moved since Sebastian left and was therefore very reluctant to exert the energy needed to retrieve his phone when he heard his signature "Stayin' Alive" ringtone.

"Shut up!" he yelled at the ceiling.

When the phone refused to obey him, he turned his head to the side and saw the caller ID. It was his head of security. He jumped up and grabbed the phone. He flipped it open and answered it.

"What happened? What's wrong?" he asked, panicked.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Moriarty..."

"I don't want your goddamn apologies," Jim cut him off, "just tell me what the fuck went wrong."

"He was twenty stories up and had just taken the shot when two men ambushed him from inside the building. They pulled guns on him."

"Handle it. I'll be there in fifteen."

Jim stood up, went to his bedroom, and quickly pulled on one of his suits- must look intimidating. When he walked outside of the building his car was already waiting for him. He stepped in and directed the driver to the building, murder and vengeance on his mind.  
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"Evening, gentlemen," Sebastian said as he stared down the barrel of a gun. "To what do I owe this pleasure."

"Mr. Charkovzsky sends his regards," one of the men replied with a heavy Russian accent.

"And I send my condolences, because I've just killed Mr. Charkovzsky."

"Then we will kill you."

"You see, there I think you'll find a problem," Seb replied, "because I don't handle death threats very well."

The two men cocked their guns then. Seb quickly ducked around one man and disarmed him skillfully. He held him in a headlock as he pointed the gun at the other man. He shot him in the head, then pointed the gun at the temple of the man he was currently attempting to choke. He pulled the trigger and released the man.

He picked up the duffle bag and went up the stairs. The building's guards would have heard the gunshots and would be on high alert. Seb would have to escape from the roof. He shut the door behind him and ran as quietly as he could up the stairs. He reached the roof and opened the door, only to be greeted by the Russians' back up.

"Lovely," Sebastian muttered.

He found a small outcropping he could hide behind. He ducked and dove behind there just before the Russians started shooting. He rolled around behind objects, dodging the bullets. He kept thinking that he really should have brought his handgun, but his mind was too clouded by a need to get out and organize his thoughts that he couldn't properly think and plan.

A shot rang next to his ear, he ducked behind another large, stone object.

The car pulled up outside the building. The head of security, a balding, tall man, ran up to the car as Jim got out.

"They're on the roof now, Mr. Moriarty," the man stuttered.

Jim sauntered past him and into the building. The man ran after him.

"You'll pay for this, I hope you know."

Sebastian looked over at the Russians, still chasing after him. The roof was large, but not large enough to run around forever. A man shot at him, and ducked back.

Lucky they can't even shoot straight, Seb thought as ran again.

Jim hit the up button on the elevator. He rode up to the top floor and exited. He walked towards the stairs where two men were guarding the hallway.

"Kill them," He said to his head of security. He pulled out a gun, shot, and the guards dropped dead.

Jim stepped over the bodies and went up the stairs.

Seb looked around, he was now near the edge and there was no where to run. He looked over at the Russians, one was now approaching, trying to get to point blank range to ensure he didn't miss. As he was about to cock the gun and take a shot, a bang sounded and a hole appeared in his forehead. He fell forward.

Seb looked up and saw Jim standing between the Russians, cradling a gun and looking at it in a very bemused way.

"Hello, boys," Jim said, looking up. "I hope you realize what you've done," he continued, sauntering towards Sebastian and the dead body, leaving his astonished head of security panting in the doorway. "You have just tried to kill my best sniper and friend."

Jim stopped and pried the hand gun out of the dead Russian's hand. He handed it to Seb, who had now stood up, amazed.

"You have made both me and Sebastian here very mad," Jim continued turning back to the astonished Russians, who still had their guns held up, pointing at Jim's head. "You won't do anything," Jim said, "otherwise you would have already shot. It amuses me that Charkovzsky didn't even send competent killers to avenge him. How sad. But now I think we know what to do," Jim said, turning to look at Seb, then back to the Russians, "Don't we?"

"Always, Boss."

Seb deftly aimed and shot the Russian closest to him in the head, Jim continued and in less than five seconds, the pair had taken out the entire squad.

Jim turned around in the sea of bodies and looked Sebastian in the eye. His intimidating and criminal persona had dropped and his concern and worry were written clearly in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"As ever," Seb replied.

Jim turned around and walked towards his head of security who was currently cowering in the doorway. He came face to face with the man and said, his criminal mask back in place, "You failed to do your job."

"Y-yes," the man stuttered, "but it was..."

"I don't want your excuses!" Jim yelled, "You failed to follow orders. And do you know what happens to people who don't follow my orders?"

"Y-yes."

"Then say your prayers," Jim placed the barrel of the gun between the man's eyes and pulled the trigger, splattering blood across the walls and his face.

Jim turned around to see that Sebastian had walked up behind him. Seb had a coy smile on his face as he said, "You sent someone to protect me."

"Yes. Your point? Exactly?" Jim asked, his face still full of anger at the man who almost got his love killed.

"So you do care," Seb said, his slight smile betraying the fact that his inner sixteen-year-old girl was screaming.

"No. I don't," Jim said trying to cover as he looked away from Sebastian. He decided to look interested in the dead body closest to them.

"Yes you do," Seb said, stepping in front of the body currently occupying Jim's attention.

"No, I..." Jim was cut off by Sebastian grabbing his face and pulling him in for a kiss. "Wha..." Jim tried asking, his lips still plastered to Sebastian's.

Seb pulled back and said, "Just shut up." He continued to kiss Jim, and slowly, the consulting criminal melted into it too.

Seb ran his fingers through Jim's hair as Jim caressed Seb's cheek. Seb moved his lips down to Jim's jawline. He traced the line with his tongue and nibbled on Jim's earlobe, eliciting a slight moan. Seb moved back to Jim's mouth and deepened the kiss, bringing their tongues into the action. He tasted Jim's teeth and mouth as Jim did the same. Jim broke this kiss and moved down to Seb's neck, sucking on the pulse point just below the jaw. He licked the spot and kissed it. He moved back to Seb's lips and throughly worked them. Seb moved from Jim's lips and began to clean away the spots of blood still on Jim's face.

Seb broke away and looked Jim in the eye, "I can't begin to tell you how long I've wanted to do that." Jim only kissed him again in reply.

Jim broke away and said, "We should be going back to the flat, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay," Seb replied, a little dazed.

They walked down the stairs. As they did so, Jim pulled out his phone and dialed his clean up crew.

"Yes, about fifteen bodies on the roof, two on the fortieth floor," Jim said into the phone.

Sebastian interrupted and said, "And two on the twentieth."

"Never mind, just blow up the building," Jim said, just wanting to go home. "Semtex as usual."

Jim hung up and looked at Seb, he smiled as they reached the landing and pulled his sniper down for another quick kiss.

"I knew you could feel something," Seb said, his lips brushing against Jim's.

"I could always love, I just needed someone to love me."

Seb kissed his criminal, no longer his psychopath.


End file.
